Story (pt. 1)
by Bri
Summary: Mark meets his match. (cowritten with rookie2k, aka Kait)
1. Default Chapter Title

"Story" (part one of three)  
Notes at end of part three.  
  
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"Story"  
By Bri and Kait  
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Taryn walked briskly through the crowds surrounding the entrance to the   
subway. She hated the god-forsaken subways. The commuters always made her late for work.   
  
*Of course,* the little voice in the back of her head told her, *if you actually made an effort to get up more than ten minutes before your shift, this problem could be easily solved....* She told the voice to fuck off. The voice didn't stop. *Oh, gladly,* it retorted. *If you could actually find someone to attach yourself to.* Taryn made a good effort to ignore the voice as she continued her journey through the chilly fall air up towards the lot between Avenues A and B. A friend of hers had mentioned some nut was staging a protest in about twenty minutes. Ever since her expletion from school due to her own untimely riotous protest, her friends had tried to inform her of every similar event in the area. Living in the East Village of NYC, that wasn't too hard an endeavor.  
  
Finally, she spotted her destination. A small clump of people were already mulling around the entrance to the vacant lot, talking, laughing, and groping. It wasn't the first time that night that she had wished she had conformed to the normal New York policy of carrying heavy weaponry everywhere. Still, she did her best not to jostle the people she was walking by too hard. She did her best but, as her parents had sometimes said to her during high school, her best obviously wasn't good enough.   
  
-----  
  
*This smoke is enough to choke someone to death...* Mark sneezed as he   
dropped the amp he was hoisting on his toe. "Shit!" he yelped, glancing down   
at the injured foot. The tennis shoe now had a nice big hole in it; a perfect view of his foot, which was rapidly turning black and blue. *Shitshitshit!*   
  
A faint chuckle came behind him. Mark whirled.   
  
"Maureen, this is not fucking funny. This is YOUR fucking performance, and   
thus it is your fucking fault that I have to buy another pair of fucking   
shoes..."  
  
She grinned in her carefree way, brown eyes twinkling with ill-concealed   
mirth. "Save it for the performance." Her smile turning a bit   
seductive, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and turned to continue   
adjusting her mic.   
  
*That woman.* Mark shook his head as he once again lifted the amp, trying to   
ignore the throbbing pain in his toe. *She knows that she drives me insane... dammit, that's probably the point.*  
  
Once the machine was in its proper place, he gathered the wires and began   
connecting them to the amp. A familiar voice came from behind him. "I   
always said you were a sucker."  
  
"It's rather obvious, Roger." Red to red, black to black. "Test that mic   
for me, will you?"  
  
"MARK IS A SUCKER!" Pause. "Yeah, it works. Why the hell do you keep doing   
all this stuff for Maureen? You know she's using you."  
  
Mark shrugged his thin shoulders, pulling his coat a little more tightly around him for warmth. At nine o'clock, the air was getting a bit chill. The filmmaker turned to face Roger. "I know, but I can't let her bomb a performance because of technical difficulties, and we all know that Joanne can't do th--holy shit."   
  
"What?" Roger craned his neck in the same direction Mark did.  
  
"That...woman. Have you seen her anywhere before?" He admired her short stature; shining brown hair fell to the shoulders of her slight frame. *Gorgeous. Jesus.*  
  
The guitarist let out a wolf whistle. Immediately, the woman whipped around. Mark burned red and ducked behind the amp. "I'm telling Mimi you did that,"   
he warned as he pretended to fiddle with the cords.   
  
Taryn whirled around as she heard the whistle. It only took her a moment to locate the source: two guys standing by the "stage" trying to set up some electrical equipment. After a moment she recognized the blonde. It was the same person she had run over on her way in. From his hunched, nervous position behind some sort of machine (an amplifier? A speaker? Damned if she could place it...), she got the impression someone else had sent out the cat   
call. His tall, lanky friend was laughing, which, she assumed, meant that he   
had been the culprit.   
  
She sent what she hoped was a wry, dangerous smile in their direction, and turned back to the crowd, looking for her friend Ingrid. *That is, if Ms. Junior Bussiness Executive can make it,* she thought icily.   
  
She thought she spotted her friend once or twice, but it turned out to be the same homeless junkie both times. *Maybe they should give out name tags like we used to have in pre-school,* one part of her brain mused. She had done a lot of mulling over preschool life lately. In her opinion, the world would be much better if people were forced to conform to the same simple rules presented by pre-k classes. *No spitting on other kids, no running, share,   
clean up, and--*  
  
"No kicking over other people's blocks," she murmured allowed as she spotted Ingrid. "Yo! Ingrid! Over here!" She jumped up and down rapidly, hoping to   
catch Ingrid's attention. From the look on the young Asian woman's face (and   
the look of her spotless black slacks, red sweater, and matching hat and   
scarf set), she had done a bit too much as far as attention getting was   
concerned.  
  
"Hey Taryn," Ingrid said quickly. "Are you still mad at Martha?" Taryn thought the question to be a bit peculiar. Martha was the first blatant back-stabber that Taryn had ever met. She was a selfish, self-centered, egotistical, and psychologically disturbed girl whom Taryn had met in seventh grade. Of course, she didn't know Martha had possessed any of those traits at the time. It wasn't until sophmore year that she had really shown her true colors. She believed Taryn to be a stuborn, immature, antisocial brat. Tayrn agreed with every term, save for brat, and that just bothered Martha more.  
  
"Ingrid, I dispise Martha. I have since highschool. Remember what I wrote in   
her yearbook at graduation?" Ingrid gave her a blank stare. "I can't believe," she muttered under her breath. "How could you forget?! 'Bite me you insensitive bitch. Why don't you go fuck yourself, No one else will. Did you actually think I'd write something charming? DON'T call.' See? I memorized it! She hates me! Remember?" Ingrid shifted her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, a definite warning sign that something was wrong.   
  
*Shit,* Taryn thought miserably.  
  
"Martha came with me," Ingrid admitted weakly. "She's over there." When Martha saw them, she came skipping over. Taryn breifly considered the quickest, easiest ways to kill herself as Martha squealed in appreciation. That was the only other notable thing about Martha. The psychological disturbance came into her psyche by causing her to ignore everything someone did to her or vice versa when the time came to confront them again.  
  
"Tar!" she shrieked. "It's so great to see you!" Taryn glared at Ingrid as Martha grabbed her and hugged her. "Ingrid told me allll about your college problems, and I feel *so* badly!" Taryn tried to put on a non-acidic expression as she formulated a response. Luckily, Martha smacked her lightly, a wide-eyed expression on her face. "That guy over there is *so* staring at you, Tar!"   
  
Taryn turned, despite Ingrid and Martha's insistance to do otherwise. *That   
weird blonde guy again,* she thought absently. "This is the third time I've run into him all night. I think I'm gonna go talk to him." She wasn't sure whether she was going to get away from Martha or just to see him up close, but she quickly found herself weaving in and out of protesters towards the stage area.  
  
Mark lightly hopped down from the stage, giving Roger one last evil glare. "Hands off," he called to his best friend. "I saw her first."  
  
Roger just laughed. "Touche! Okay, I know, I know." He grinned ferally. "Go get 'er, tiger."  
  
The blonde filmmaker groaned as he hopped down the stage, dusting the dirt   
off of his jeans. He stood for a moment, willing the forlorn-looking hole in his shoe to go away, before glancing up to take a look at the size of the crowd.   
  
"Oh my God," he murmured. She was standing right in front of him, looking   
him over with an eager expression. *This is it, this is my chance...*  
  
"Hi, I'm--" He took a step forward and fell flat on his face.   
  
Taryn covered her mouth with one hand, hoping to mask her snickers, and offered the other to the poor sap who had his head in the dirt. She pulled him up until they were eye level. Oops. A little too close. She almost jumped back at the spark that shot through her when she looked into his eyes. *Keep yourself together! You just met the guy!* Crap. The voice was back. *Get that 'scared as hell' look off your face and introduce yourself.* Taryn let go of his hand and smiled. "My name's Taryn."   
  
Mark brushed himself off, averting his eyes from her pretty face. *God, I am such a stupid idiot...idiotidiotidiot.* He finally glanced up into her eyes, a shy smile spreading across his features. "And this fool is named Mark Cohen."   
  
Taryn felt herself flush as she fixated on his smile. He had an adorable   
smile. "Well, than that makes two fools. Although you probably can't tell, I was the biggest kltuz to grace Little Falls High School in years. Very nice to   
meet you, Mark."   
  
He laughed. "Thanks. I needed that bit of consolation." He heard Roger   
hoot behind him. "One second," he said, flashing her a grin.   
  
Mark planted his feet firmly and glared at the grinning blonde songwriter,   
venting his anger in order to hide his faint blush. "HEY ASSHOLE! WHERE'S YOUR MANNERS?! COME DOWN AND SAY HI!"  
  
He turned again, ready to explain. "He's the one who whistled at you...such   
a flirt." *Good God, one look at Rog and she'll never look at me...what a dumb move.*   
  
Taryn felt her smile widen involuntarily. She caught the rosy tint to his cheeks. *That's so sweet,* the voice informed her absently. *Introduce yourself to his damn friend. Be polite. Be courteous. STOP LOOKING AT HIS ASS!* She whipped her head up as the flush in her cheeks deepened. It was true. *Mind out of gutter, mind out of gutter!* she mentally willed. She forced herself to turn to the newcomer. "Um, hi," she said awkwardly.   
  
Roger chuckled deep in his chest as he extended a hand. "Hi, I'm Roger." He   
smiled as charmingly as he was able to see if he could make this girl melt. *Her eyes keep going back to Mark...hmmm. I think he's found a keeper.* "So, how'd you find out about the performance?"  
  
*Dammit, why didn't I think about bringing up a conversation topic...agh.." Mark did his best doormat impression, hoping she would stop looking at him.   
  
Taryn regretfully pulled her eyes from Mark to adress Roger. "Well, my friend Ingrid mentioned it to me. I have no idea where she heard of it, but ever since my little incident at school, everyone I know tells me about this sort of thing." *SHIT!* she thought wildly as she realized what she had just said. *Shit! Now he'll want to know what I'm talking about. If he's not scared of me already, he will be soon enough. Dammit, I suck at this!*   
  
"You staged protests in college too?" Mark's eyes lit up and his face came alive as he nudged Roger in the ribs. "I think our biggest triumph was getting permission for gay couples to express themselves freely on campus."  
  
"And of course Benny blocked us at every turn." Roger growled something   
unaudible under his breath.  
  
Seeing Taryn's puzzled expression, Mark explained, "He's our landlord, and   
used to be our roommate at college...he was our roommate at our apartment   
too, for awhile, along with Maureen." He jacked his thumb towards the performer on stage. "That's how we know her..." He trailed off. *Why am I telling her all of this stuff?!*   
  
Taryn sighed with relief. "Well, staged isn't exactly how I would put it..." she grinned sheepishly, looking at the floor. "It was sort of spur of the moment... and got me kicked out." Taryn took a deep breath and continued quickly. "You see, my friend Ashley was supposed to get an award for enviromental awareness in fictional writing or some shit like that. She was sick and asked me to accept for her. The presenter was wearing a mink coat and I turned the whole acceptance speech into a demonstration on animal rights. It started a riot. Fire somehow got involved. Needless to say, I'm not longer a student there." She looked up nervously and tried to smile. *At least that skeleton's out of the closet,* she thought with a small smile.   
  
Mark chuckled. "Sounds like something Maureen would do." He adjusted his glasses a bit, resisting the urge to shove them up a bit on his nose in a typically nerdy fashion.   
  
"Maaaark!" The filmmaker in question spun, as did everyone else waiting for the protest to start, at the idignated young woman's bellow. Maureen was standing on the stage, hands on hips, miffed expression on face. "I need help here! We're starting in TWO MINUTES and you and Roger are FLIRTNIG and   
wait until MIMI hears this, Roger, she is going to be PISSED and the MIC isn't WORKING you stupid SPIKY-HAIRED GEEK get your CAMERA-BRAINED ASS up   
here!"   
  
Meekly, he turned to Taryn. "Maureen asks, I jump. See you around?" He headed up to the stage, his ears ringing with the laughter of the crowd.  
  
"Sounded more like a demand than a question." Roger put in, waving to Taryn.   
  
"I sure hope so," she whispered to herself. "See you guys!" she yelled aloud. Once Roger and Mark were gone, she felt Martha and Ingrid jump up behind her.  
  
"OHMIGOD!" Martha shrieked. "That guy was, like, SO HOT!" Taryn felt her ears start to burn a little.  
  
"Yeah, she said with a smile, watching as Mark flinched at Maureen's verbal attacks across the stage. "He's really great...."  
  
"He looks like he plays guitar or something....you think he'd go out with   
me?"   
  
Taryn stopped mid-fantasy. "You mean Roger? I think he's got a girlfriend or something, I'm not sure, I wasn't paying attention...." She sighed and turned to Ingrid. "Let's find somewhere close to stand. I wanna keep an eye on the stage." Ingrid nodded knowingly.   
  
The performance didn't start for another five minutes, three minutes off   
schedule, Taryn noted with mild interest. She tried to pay attention to Maureen, but her eyes kept wandering back to where Mark and Roger stood, now accompanied by two other women, one hispanic and one black. The first one, she inferred, must be Mimi, taking into account the fact that she and Roger were all over each other for the majority of the performance. The other woman looked a bit too stern for the scene, but, as she was reminded frequently in the Village, looks could be deceiving.   
  
As Maureen's performance winded down, Taryn caught Mark looking in her direction. She smiled sweetly and turned back to Maureen hastily when she realized she hadn't looked at the diva-ish woman all night long. *Great way to impress a guy, Tar,* the voice said darkly. *Ignore his friend while attending her protest. That'll score big points.* Why did her inner voice have to be as much of a smartass as she was?!   
  
Mark fiddled with his undersized coat up on stage, twisting one of the buttons over and over again. He stared straight ahead at Maureen, not really noticing his curly-haired friend--his mind was in the crowd with Taryn. *She's smart...beautiful...funny, cynical, perfect. So, boys and girls, we conclude that she would never go for Mark Cohen.*  
  
He heard a snap and glanced down sharply. The button had come off in his hand. With a muttered swear, he stuck it in his coat pocket and pretended to look around the crowd. Naturally, his eyes settled on Taryn. She didn't seem to be paying much attention to the show, but she turned to look at him right when he was staring at her face. Mark flushed; Taryn smiled. *Probably marvelling at how much of a loser one guy can be...*   
  
When the performance finally ended, Taryn made sure she gave a thunderous   
round of applause. Ingrid clapped enough to be polite. Martha yawned loudly.   
"When are we going?" she said lazily. "I'm really hungry." Taryn was no longer paying attention to the psycho bitch, however. She was fixated on Mark and his friends. They had grouped around Maureen momentarily and were now walked towards the entrance/exit of the lot, minus the black woman. Taryn clenched her fists, attempting to keep herself under control. *Here goes nothing,* she thought firmly, smiling and walking towards them with Ingrid in tow. Martha followed listlessly. *And into the abyss....*   
  
----  
  
"Oh, Marky, she sounds great!" Maureen squeezed his arm, and for once, Mark didn't feel a lurch of his heart with her touch. "I'm sure you two will get along marvelously...omigod, is that her? Why, Marky, she's a looker..."  
  
"Hands off, Maureen," he murmured playfully. Mark straightened his shoulders, wishing the hole in his shoe would disappear.   
  
"Hi," Taryn said shyly. *You haven't been fucking shy since seventh grade!* the voice screamed. "I don't mean to....I mean, I didn't want to.....er, Hi." *Shit!* *YOU FUCKING MORON!!!* the voice shouted. *Now he thinks you're just mentally DEFICENT!!* She blushed madly.   
  
*Oh God, she's here, she's here, oh God, you're an idiot, fool, moron, jerk,   
loser, geek--* Everyone else discreetly moved away as his conscience yammered on. *She'll never look at you, why would she wanna look at you, you haven't sold a film in a year, you haven't finished a film in a decade! What an idiot, fool, moron, loser, loser, loser--*  
  
"GOD!" he cried, clutching his head with one hand. Seeing Taryn's dumfounded expression, he hurriedly explained, "It's that damn inner voice   
and it's going on and on about how much of a fool I am and I just can't TAKE   
it anymore." He paused. "I think I need help. If I were you I'd go running in the other direction."  
  
Taryn smiled again. *He's so incredibly sweet...* "I have one of those too. Damn annoying things. It likes to pick on me too. I don't see what it has to pick on you for." She smiled at him sweetly. *Oh, that wasn't an obvious pick-up line...*   
  
Mark flushed madly and began to stammer. *Oh GOD.* Finally, his mumblings began to make sense. "Do you want to come back to the loft with me-, uh, with us? We're having a bit of a party, we, we, uh, usually do after   
Maureen's performances..."   
  
Taryn smiled again. She seemed to be doing a lot of that around Mark. "I'd   
love to go. Really."   
  
She turned to Ingrid, but the woman stepped back quickly. "We've got to catch a train. We'll talk to you later, Tar. Have fun!"   
  
Ingrid headed down the street, but Martha turned to blow a kiss at Roger. "See you around, cutie," she cooed. Before Taryn could protest Ingrid and Martha were gone. She turned to Mark again, shrugged, and offered her arm.   
  
He smiled down at her, taking her arm a bit hesitantly. When she didn't back   
away, he began to feel at ease. "This may sound a little blunt, but, um, can't that friend of yours tell Roger is attached? Mimi was getting a little upset there..."   
  
Taryn lowered her head in embarassment. "I wouldn't be surprised if she was too dense to notice," she muttered darkly. "She's not really a friend. She's more of a bitter enemy who can't take a fucking hint." She sighed again, but looked up and smiled weakly. "How about this? Mimi has permission to kick her ass next time she looks at Roger, okay?" She brushed her fingers over Mark's in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. *Oh. My. God.*   
  
Mark's heart skipped a beat as he daringly caught her hand up in his. "I don't think you know what you're asking," he teased. "Mimi would probably ship her off to a jail in Singapore. She's quite posessive of her lover..."   
  
Taryn tried as hard as she could to remember to breath. *Oh holy God...* She   
smiled, ignoring hte annoying flush that always seemed to haunt her. "Oh, please, let her do it. One less thing on my list of things to accomplish this month..." This felt so....bizarrely right... *You've got it bad, babe,* the voice said.   
  
Mark's laughing group of friends ahead had come to their apartment building;   
Angel opened the door for them and ushered then in. With a knowing wink at   
Mark, the crossdresser dashed into the building.   
  
He glanced down at Taryn. "You know, I've known you for such a short time,   
but it seems like I've known for forever..." She smiled and turned to look   
up at him. Mark melted. *Oh God.*   
  
Taryn's insides no longer had any definte composition. She felt like she was   
ready to collapse at any moment. If she didn't have Mark to lean on... "I know what you mean," she said softly. "This is amazing. I've never really felt this way before...." *This is what it's like to be in love,* the voice told her gently. She was inclined to agree.   
  
With a trembling hand and a smile as weak as his legs, Mark gently brushed a   
strand of hair away from Taryn's eyes. He tilted her chin up gently and   
leaned over to give her a swift kiss.   
  
Taryn felt her heart physically stop. She leaned into the kiss, touching his   
cheek tenderly. *Oh. Oh my.....*   
  
Of their own accord, Mark's arms wrapped themselves more tightly around her waist. She broke off for air for a moment just to have him pull her closer again. *This must be heaven...* his inner voice said in wonder, and then for   
the first time in his twenty-six years, it shut up completely.  
  
When Mark finally pulled away, he whispered in her ear. "I also believe in   
love at first sight, you know."   
  
Taryn was 97% sure that her legs had stopped working all together, that she   
had remained standing by sheer will power alone. *I think I'm falling in love   
with a guy I met less than an hour ago.....* she thought absently. Her mind   
was too busy working over the fact she had just had the most wonderful kiss   
in her life to notice. His breath on her ear was so gentle...  
  
"I'm starting to believe too," she whispered back, pressing her forehead to   
his. *Starting to pray it's true, is more like it,* the voice said.   
  
Mark kissed her again, quickly this time--he was afraid that if he lingered,   
he might not ever let her go. "My friends and I are a boxed set," he admitted when he broke off the kiss. "You'd better meet them before you judge me... and before Roger calls something down from the window where I will bet you the proceeds of my next film he is spying on us."   
  
Taryn smiled warmly and brushed her fingers across his cheek again. This was wonderful. This was turning into the most wonderful night of her life. She took his hand firmly and lead the way up the stairs. "I wouldn't miss it. If they're half as great as you are..." She smiled at him reassuringly.   
  
A trail of fire seemed to spread across his cheek where she touched him. He   
flushed as they arrived at the apartment door. "I'm warning you, there's probably something nuts going on in there--and since I just told you that, ten to one they'll be playing Parcheesi when we walk in."   
  
Taryn laughed softly, fixed Mark's ruffled hair, and kissed his cheek. "Not much surprises me. I showed up to three out of four highschool Valentine's Day dances in full Goth get-up. Plus, I used to stage productions of Shakespearean plays in front of a Shop Rite by us. I'm not even getting into the stuff I did in college...."   
  
He laughed, cradling her cheek with one hand. *All of this seems so natural...maybe this IS love at first sight.* "When I was thirteen, in the middle of synagoge, I had a sort of breakdown. I ran up to the altar and shouted "MICHELLE DAWSON IS AN INSANE...SATANIST!" I, uh, was grounded for three   
months..."   
  
Taryn smiled coyly. "I can top that. In 9th grade a bunch of girls thought that I was a satanist because I used words they had never heard of and my friends and I stood around in the hallways in a circle....TALKING!!!" She moved her hand to her forehead for an added effect, but smiled out of the side of her mouth.   
  
"Kinky." Mark laughed as she playfully slapped him. "Come on, we'd better get inside. I bet Mimi's telling everyone we're either dead or making out in front of the door..." He blushed as he realized it wasn't far from the truth.   
  
Taryn grinned and pressed her finger to his lips gently. "Let's go meet the family," she whispered. She retracted her finger, straightened her rumpled turtleneck, and opened the door.   
  
A sea of grinning faces greeted them.  
  
"Damned Commie spies." Mark glared at them as they broke out laughing.   
  
Taryn took a deep breath and waved. "Greetings. I'm Taryn Eden. In the past   
hour that I've known Mark, it's been established that I'm a schizophrenic, grudge holding, outrageous, psycho, with an unnatural sense of humor, who could possibly be a Satanist. If you're not running from the room now, this may work out." She smiled to herself. *Wow, that was pretty good...*   
  
"Who has probably been the first one to make out with Mark in a millenium." Collins grinned evilly.  
  
"Hush, baby." Angel turned her smiling face to Taryn. "Hiyas, I'm Angel, the guy next to me is Collins--I think you know Roger and Maureen, but the lovely lady next to Maureen is Joanne--" The lawyer bowed deeply.   
  
Maureen rested her head on Joanne's shoulder. "And for the last half hour we have been placing bets on how quickly you two would fall for each other."   
  
"And I'm Mimi," the curly-haired Latino put in. "Angel, you forgot me..."  
  
"I don't think Roger did," the drummer said matter-of-factly, grinning at Mimi's lover.   
  
Taryn grinned. "Oh, good, the one that was going to kick Martha's ass for looking at Roger all night. Please, put her out of her misery. I'll pay you....that is, I would if I wasn't broke...." She squeezed Mark's hand and stepped into the room.   
  
"Damn straight!" Mimi called out. Roger tightened his arm around Mimi's   
shoulder and leaned over to whisper something in her ear. She giggled and   
kissed his cheek.  
  
"Aren't we all broke?" Joanne said lazily, playing with a strand of Maureen's   
hair.  
  
"Everyone but YOU." Collins said with a laugh.  
  
"Anyway...any of you lovebirds feel like going to the Life Cafe?" Mark asked them, slinging his camera case over one shoulder. "I feel like table dancing."   
  
Taryn's mouth opened slightly.  
  
"You...whoa. That's weird...that's fucking weird. Of all of the hundreds of resturaunts in the East Village..." She noticed that Mark and all of his friends were giving her very peculiar looks. "I work at the Life Cafe. I waitress there... rather badly, actually, but it pays the bills....usually...." She shook her head clear. "This should be interesting....."   
  
(end part one) 


	2. Story: Picking Up Pieces

Story  
(part two of three)  
  
-------------  
"Story"  
by Bri and Kait  
-------------  
  
Taryn couldn't help but smile as she walked arm in arm with Mark down the street. His friends were huddled in an excited group around them, chatting with one another. It was Mimi who first spoke up. "So, Taryn, what do you do?" she asked casually.   
  
"I write. Not very well, I might add," she replied with a wry smile. "That, and waitressing at that damn cafe... If they didn't have so much trouble keeping the staff, I'd have been fired looong ago." She smiled devilishly at the strange look that Mimi gave her. "Let's just say plates have a way of launching themselves at customers when I'm around..."  
  
Mark covered a snicker with a over-exaggerated cough. "During college, I was a bartender--I have no clue exactly why I chose that job out of so many in the newspaper, but I did. Good hours, good pay, horrible company. It got to the point where I'd actually pour customer's G'n Ts over their heads and shove them out the door... never really liked beer or mixed drinks since then..."   
  
Taryn smiled with an insiduous chuckle. "Come to think of it, quite a few people leave with parsley in their hair and ice cubes down their shirt... I think it's become a game, really. Let's see what the managers will excuse to keep Taryn from being fired!"   
  
"I think the final straw was when I knocked a bottle of tequila over a   
girl's head when she...uh...hit on me too many times." Mark grinned ferally in reflection. "It, uh, broke..."   
  
"The only thing keeping me from slipping into the realm of the   
unconventionally employed is the fact that some group of nuts keep starting riots during the night shift," she said with a sigh. "Everyone keeps quitting after experiencing those. Although, quite frankly, I'd really like to join in on the destruction most of the time."   
  
There was dead silence before Roger started chuckling, the same deep rumble that Taryn had heard before. Soon, St. Marks Place was reverberating with the laughter of seven highly amused bohemians.   
  
"Um, Taryn," Mark choked out, "that's us. We go there, tabledance, and toast to sodomy..."   
  
*Fucking idiot,* the voice muttered darkly. Taryn felt her ears burn. *Might as well make the best out of it....* her more sinister side cackled. She stopped short, whirled Mark around, and kissed him hard on the mouth. "That's for paying my bills for the past six months," she explained breathlessly.   
  
He laughed and pulled her closer, tucking his head above hers. "I think you might want to put on a mask or something," he murmured in her ear as he stroked her hair. "You'll get fired for sure if you come with us...."   
  
She looked up and him and smiled softly. "Then I guess I'll find a new job," she said firmly. *Because God knows I wouldn't give up this night for anything else in the world,* she thought dreamily. *Bills, rent, food be damned.*   
  
Mark whooped and lifted her up in the air to kiss her nose. "Well then," he said to Angel, who was standing closest, "shall we continue on?"  
  
Roger blinked to clear his mind. He'd never seen Mark this...radiant...since when he was going out with Maureen. *And that was how many months ago?* He wrapped an arm around Mimi. *Maybe he just doesn't function completely without someone to love him.*   
  
Taryn giggled as Mark lowered her back to the ground. *You just giggled,* the voice accused. *Like a teenager. You're sick!!* Taryn ignored the voice once again. She had never felt this way about anyone. *This has to be love. It has to be.* She never felt this care-free around Gary in eight and a half months of dating him. *Of course, he thought there was something seriously wrong with you because of your work, study, and dating habits,* the voice reminded her. *He was only in it for the sex...*  
  
*She's adorable, she's wonderful, and she's with me...my God...am I   
dreaming?* Mark jammed his hands in his pockets, afraid to look at Taryn lest she would disappear. *Maybe I'm hallucinating again, like I was when I had the flu that one time...*   
  
Taryn noticed Mark's sudden withdrawl and snapped out of her own reverie. *Great, you scared him off,* the voice said sadistically. As a back part of her mind wondered what caused the voice to shift moods so fast, she touched Mark's arm hesitantly.  
  
"Um, is something wrong?" she asked quietly, trying to look supportive. *I never really did get a hand on that supportive thing, did I?* she wondered, slightly frustrated. *I'd better try my hardest...*   
  
"Nothing..." He sighed, mentally kicking himself. "Well, something. You see Maureen?" He gestured and waited until her eyes followed the direction his hand was pointing at, before continuing softly. "We went out once. Before she decided to date Joanne. And I was the luckiest guy on Earth if she even said hello to me on a bad day. On a good day, she'd lavish so much attention that you'd feel like the King of the World..." His mouth twisted in a wry smile. "Joanne and I call it the Tango: Maureen. She just has so much charisma she pulls you back, time after time."   
  
Taryn felt her heart stop, but this time it wasn't a positive thing. She could feel the color draining from her face. *Nonononononono,* she thought miserably. *No....this isn't....*   
  
"And you're still...." she whispered very quietly, trying not to shake. "I  
mean, do you....?" She couldn't bring herself to finish, merely pleaded to him for an answer silently.   
  
Mark looked like somebody slapped him. *Dammit, you try for sympathy and you KILL the poor woman...* He took Taryn's arm gently, silently having her stop as the rest of the group continued. When they were out of earshot, he continued, "Taryn, Maureen is my friend--and nothing more, now. It took me awhile after she broke up with me to learn that dating her like jumping into the abyss without a parachute."  
  
Seeing the disbelief in her glistening eyes, he wilted.   
  
Taryn's mouth slipped open of it's own accord. She moved to say something and then closed her mouth. She tried a second time, but still, the words didn't seem right. Finally she just settled for a glare.  
  
"Watch what you say around me," she finally said. "My heart's not what it used to be." Inside, she was doing an excited dance. *He's not leaving me for his lesbian-ex!* There was a mental pause. *Okay, that sounded pretty weird....* *No shit,* the voice replied. Taryn grabbed Mark's hand and gave it a tug.   
  
"Let's catch up," she whispered with a smile.   
  
Dazedly, he followed. *I'm not even going to TRY to figure out who won that one.*   
  
-----  
  
"We're he-ere," Mark sang in a teasing tone as he barreled through the front door. The waiter shrank behind his stand. "We need a table. Now. A large table... it'd better be sturdy..."  
  
The waiter backed away, grumbling under his breath. "Damn kids and their partying..." He blinked. "Taryn!? What the hell?! Oh, for crying out loud, I'm not even going to ask. Follow me."  
  
Mark flashed a grin at Taryn and bowed comically, trying to ease the mood a bit. "Care to help me lead the way?" he asked teasingly.   
  
"Oh, I'd be just honored," she said, clasping her hands sarcastically under her chin. She smiled sadistically at the head waiter. *Rick? Ralph? Reese? I think his name starts with 'R'....* she thought absently. With a flourish, she took Mark's arm and proceeded towards a largish table to the right.  
  
Mark made a show of pulling out a chair and ushering Taryn to sit down in it. "M'lady," he said in a chivalrous tone, before plopping down beside her. "He doesn't look happy," he confided. "I say we break out the champagne...you know, we never pay for our meals either..."   
  
Taryn laughed. "Oh, yeah, I heard that too. I primarily handle the lunch hour, but word gets around." She took in Mark's camera, spiky blonde hair, and glasses for a moment. *Oh my God...Trina was right...* She raised her eyebrows in wonderment for a moment, and then quickly explained to the befuddled-looking Mark.  
  
"My friend Trina works the late shift a lot. She said... she said there's this one rioter with 'adorable spikey-hair and glasses' who was always 'lugging around this damn camera' whom she was thinking of asking out." She smiled coyly. "Please do me a favor and say no, alright?"   
  
Angel overheard, and stuck her head in the conversation. "Is she the one who clapped and cheered that one time when you," she gestured to Mark, "fell off the table and--"  
  
The filmmaker ducked his head. "Enough, enough!" he protested. "Don't go on, please..."  
  
Mark's begging didn't deter the drummer in the least. "Fell off the table, ripped your brand-new shirt in half when you caught it on a chair, and landed on top of that wine bottle Roger put on the floor..."  
  
Collins, who had snuck up behind Taryn, caught up the thread, "and dyed your pants bright red? Yeah, I think that's her."   
  
Taryn did her best to cover up her laughter with a few coughs and sneezes. From the look on Mark's face, it was obvious it didn't work too well. "Allergies," she explained with a mischevious glint in her eyes. "But, that would be Trina."   
  
Mark snorted. "I heard her making fun of us the other day--Mimi,   
especially." He scowled deeply, his eyes averting to the cowed waiting-staff hiding near the far wall. *Assholes.* "If we still carried any clout here, I would've tried to get her fired..."   
  
"No offense," he said quickly. "I just...can't stand people who don't like my friends and I for our lifestyle."   
  
"Hey, no big deal," she said with a smile. "Really. She's annoying anyway. She's got Daddy to pay for everything she does, so she doesn't even really need this job. She looooves rubbing it in." She laughed quietly. "She almost had a heart attack when I dropped an entire table's worth of food on Daddy and Big Ugly Client from Hell's laps...."   
  
Collins growled something unintelligble. "Sounds like Benny." He banged his fists on the table, calling loudly, "WINE AND BEER!" The others took up the chant until the restaurant windows started shaking.  
  
The head waiter, his hands trembling, brought a tray of drinks. Mark passed a glass to bubbly champagne to Taryn, and took one for himself. "Shall I lead the toast," he called out, "or should I film this one? After all..." Mark paused to grin at Taryn, "this is a memorable event. We have a new member inthe family."   
  
Taryn felt her cheeks flush, but no where near to the extent they had been earlier. "Get it on tape," she urged. "I love making fun of myself on film. When Ash and I were roomies at school we spent whole weekends making asses out of ourselves on video. I'm sure you can do much better than she can." She ignored the infuriated looks the waiter was throwing her, *Ron....Rich...Rob....Renfield...* she mused, and blocked out the fact that she could hear Trina hissing her name from across the room.   
  
"I think you're being called." Mark smiled and poked her shoulder. "Feel free to ignore her at will... anyway, who's up to leading the toast? How about...waitaminute." His twinkling eyes settled on Taryn. "How about Mimi, you start it off, and then let's have Taryn pick up the thread..."   
  
Taryn blinked. *Oh dear...* "You do realize I have no idea what I'm doing. None whatsoever," she said aloud. Before Mark could reply, Taryn was yanked backwards by her shoulder.  
  
"Get over here," Trina hissed, pulling her away from the table. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked through clenched teeth.   
  
Taryn shrugged. "Dinner with friends?"  
  
"I know you want to get fired, but--"   
  
*Who the hell does she think she is?!* Her anger bubbled over. "No, listen to *me* for once, Trina!" she shouted. "What if I told you I liked everyone at that fucking table?! What if I told you I'm here of my own free choice, not with the intention of being fired, although that would be a nice side-effect?! Would that send your perfect little fucking world askew, or do you have your head too far up your ass to even hear me?!" She shot Trina one last icy look before sitting back down. "Go back to Daddy." She sat down with a frustrated sigh. "I'm a writer. It's my job to piss people off," she explained to the table.   
  
Mark snagged her around the waist and gave her a dramatic, lingering kiss that resulted in the resounding applause of the various people at the table. "You know," he said, more to himself than to her, "Roger can use the camera. I think I still might like to do the toast this time." He held her more tightly. "With you."   
  
Taryn felt her heart flip-flop. *What the hell did I do to deserve this? What ever it was, I'd better keep doing it.....* She slipped her arms securely around his waist. "Hey, whatever you say. I'm just the rookie, remember?" She smiled slighly and breathed in deeply. *Oh God, this is perfect....*   
  
Mark tossed his camera case (albeit carefully) to Roger, clambered up onto the table ungracefully, and gave Taryn a hand up. "Champagne, please," he requested. Joanne handed him the sparkling glass.  
  
"Jump in whenever you want," he said with a wide grin at the woman beside him. Lifting his glass, he called, "Let's start this typically! To days of inspiration! Playing hooky!"  
  
"PERFORMANCE ARTISTS!" Maureen bellowed from her seat, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Broken mics, life on the edge..."   
  
Taryn found herself grinning involuntarily. *Oh, this should be easy   
enough....* "Self-contempt!" she added. "Unfinshed projects, Procrastination!"   
  
"Dancing, tangos to hell--" Mark's face took on a devil-may-care-look as he grinned at Joanne; his gaze shifted to Trina. "Freaks who get their life paid through..."  
  
"Yuppie landlord scum!" Mimi yelled, then her voice softened. "Punk rockers who find the way to one's heart..."  
  
"Love, life and happiness!" Angel added.   
  
"Christophe Beck!" Taryn shouted with a laugh. "No feasible income! Love at first sight!" she winked at Mark flirtatiously.   
  
*Christ, she's beautiful.* "C'mere, you," he growled, pulling her into his arms. *I can't be separated from her...God, Mark Cohen, you are pathetic. I'm falling faster and faster every moment...* "Robert Redford, beaded wigs," he glanced at Angel, who giggled, "cheap cameras and lameass puns!" Mark paused, and leaned over to breathe "auld lang syne," in her ear before grinning mischieviously.   
  
Taryn giggled and tangled one hand lazily in his hair. *Oh God,* she thought helplessly. *Do my legs even work anymore?* "Computer crashes, missing data, stressed all-nighters, and caffine boosts!" she called out flippantly. *Damn computer,* a back part of her mind hissed.   
  
"Caffeine," Roger acknowledged behind his camera. "The only good substitute for..."  
  
"Sleeping in!" Collins jumped in with a flying leap on the table, joining Mark and Taryn. "Classfuls of brats, actual reality..."  
  
"ACT UP! FIGHT AIDS!" two voices chorused. Mimi climbed up on the table, smacking Collins' ass playfully, as Angel fixed her skewed wig and joined them. One of the waitresses squealed and made a mad dash for the bathroom.   
  
Taryn barely aknowlegded anyone else at the table. Mark was looking into her eyes. She felt herself swoon. "Taking that first step," she finally said. "Jumping into the abyss... with a parachute."   
  
Taryn looked around the table quickly. The riot was in full swing now. No one was paying attention to the two of them anymore. She leaned forward and kissed Mark quickly, before whispering, "Can we talk for a minute?"   
  
He nodded intently as he raised an arm at Roger. "Careful with that camera," he bellowed, before following Taryn's petite frame. "Yes?" he asked.   
  
Taryn sat hesitantly on an empty table, shoving the half finished dinners left by the fleeing occupants away. *Why are you doing this to yourself, kid?* the voice shouted. *Why screw with a good thing?*  
"I....I really, *really* like you, Mark. I do. It's just... you don't   
think..." *How come I can never say what I want?!*   
  
"Are we going too fast? This feels so...right....but...." she trailed off lamely, looking at her hands.   
  
Mark reached out, grasping one of her hands in his. "This is up to you, really." He paused. "I'm scarred when it comes to relationships; most decisions I end up making about them these days... well, it just turns out horrible..." He chuckled weakly. "That didn't sound right."   
  
Taryn smiled weakly and slowly looked up. "I'm not very good with relationships," she admitted. "It's all me, I know it. No one I've gone out with has ever really understood me. The longest time I've ever stayed with someone was this guy named Gary in college. He actually stayed away from me a lot...dumped me after the riot. I don't know why I'm saying all this...." *Neither do I, you fucking idiot,* the voice fumed. *Give yourself a hand for screwing up this relationship practically before it started...*   
  
To her surprise, Mark nodded. "I had Sarah, all through highschool and college. We were the best of friends...until she learned I wasn't going to go be a lawyer and get her a big house. She broke up with me right when I dropped out of lawschool at Brown University. She tried to stay friends, but..."   
  
Taryn smiled slightly. "I wish I could say I was sorry for you, but I really can't be..." She interlaced her fingers with his. "If you had a nice big house out in suburbia, you probably wouldn't be hanging around a dump like this. You probably wouldn't be seen in public with me." She frowned at her rumpled turtleneck and khakis. She unconciously rotated her sleeve to hide the ink stains covering one cuff.   
  
"I regretted dropping out a few times, but I can tell you that this isn't one of them." Mark looked earnestly into her eyes. "If you're regretting anything, please tell me." His expression was planitive. *And I know that she's probably regretting things.*   
  
She bit her lip. "I'm regretting starting this conversation," she admitted, "Because I feel so incredibly stupid at this point." *You should, you ARE.* "And my subconcious seems to be agreeing with me for once in my life." She smiled with a touch of embarassment in her eyes. "I'm such a pessimist...and a dope...I'm sorry..."   
  
"Oh, sweet..." His eyebrows knitted together. *I hate when people put themselves down.* *Well, you do it all the time!* "You're neither of those things." Wishing he dared to hold her, he fell silent. "How far do you want to take this relationship?"   
  
Taryn closed her eyes. "If I tell you something, do you promise you won't get frightened off?" she asked quietly. *You're about to do something incredibly, intensely fucking stupid!!!* her mind yelled. She tried her best to ignore it and continue without qualms. "You have to promise."   
  
"I promise. On my camera." He gave her a small smile as he reached over to stroke her cheek.   
  
*This is your last chance to save yourself.....* "I know this sounds illogical and crazy and...infeasible...but I think that I'm falling in love with you." She launched on without opening her eyes before he could object. "I know it's crazy! It doesn't make any sense! I've known you for-what?-an hour? two? Three? But I swear to God I've never felt this way before and...and..." *You're babling...like a psycho...* "I just don't know what else to think." She opened her eyes and looked up. "You think I'm crazy?"   
  
"I think we're both crazy, because I think I'm falling in love with you." His smile was desperate and caring in the same moment. *I love her. I know it.*   
  
And this time, no voice challenged him.   
  
Taryn melted. Right then and there, she felt that she could die happy. *I've never had anything signifigant published, my parents haven't spoken to me since I got thrown out, my sister won't send me a penny...but Mark Cohen is in love with me. That's all that matters...* She touched his cheek very gently.   
  
"That's possibly the most wonderful thing I've ever heard," she whispered.   
  
Mark pulled her out of her seat and into his arms, slipping his lips over her in a kiss that seemed to last forever. *This is amazing, this is so amazing...*   
  
*Oh my God.....if this isn't love, then love doesn'texsist.....this....He's shaking....no, I'm shaking. Oh God.....* She tightened her grip around him and lost a hand in his hair. *This is right.....this has to be right....*   
  
"It's okay," Mark murmured as he tucked her into the crook of his arm. "I think, somehow, that this is going to work out." He leaned over to kiss her firmly, ignoring the sound of footsteps coming near.   
  
Taryn closed her eyes and sighed gently before leaning into the kiss. Had she left her eyes open, she might have spotted the newcomer before it was too late.  
  
"Taryn!" shrieked Martha as she jumped into a chair across from the couple. "You *have* to introduce me to your friend!"   
  
The filmmaker blinked as he reluctantly pulled away from Taryn. "We're rather busy right now, thanks. We don't want any Girl Scout cookies or a new fridge. Thanks, bye."   
  
Taryn nodded enthusiastically. "We'll be happy to take some information and get back to you at a better time!" she agreed. Much to her dismay, Martha just laughed and gave her a playful shove. Unfortunately, it was more shove then playful. She slid off Mark and landed with a stinging thump on the chair next to them.  
  
"You're such a riot, Tar!" she giggled. "But, really, who's this guy?" She raised a seductive eyebrow at Mark. "Tell!"   
  
"Sit, stay. Down, girl." He shook his head and offered a hand to Taryn, pulling her back into a loose embrace. "I'm Mark Cohen. This is Taryn. We are busy. We wish you to leave. Now? Please?" *Lord, hours ago I would sit here and let her pour her life story at me...this is more like the me from college. The me that Roger became friends with. Huh.*  
  
Taryn sighed heavily, interrupting his train of thought. "Martha, there is a time and a place to catch up on 'old times'. This is neither the time, nor the place, so leave a message on my machine and I'll get back to you when I feel like it." She resisted the urge to add, 'never' to that sentence. "Ashley would be happy to take a message for me."   
  
Martha's eyes lit up as if she had forgotten something. "Oh, that reminds me!" she exclaimed. "I saw Ash outside. She said something about her keys...she wanted to see you..." Taryn looked at Martha suspiciously, but turned and kissed Mark softly, standing up.  
  
"I will be right back, I swear," she murmured. "This could be important. Move and I hunt you down and so help me God..." She walked away slowly, leaving him to finish the thought himself.   
  
Martha, meanwhile, blinked showily at Mark and moved forward. "She's told you about the therapy, right?" she said innocently.   
  
"Sure." He folded his arms and easied back in his chair, giving Martha the 'stinkeye'. "She also told me about the riots, her friends, and you." He pointedly didn't include the woman in front of him in the second category.   
  
Martha ignored the look and continued. "Because, you know," she gushed over-dramatically. "We were all so worried about her. It broke our heart when they kept taking her out of school like that. The doctors...well, they said that happened to a lot of high schoolers and not to worry about it. Still, we were SO scared when the psychologist interviewed us all for her..." A glint of a sadistic grin flickered over her face.   
  
"Really. That's weird, because none of my friends seemed scared after I was diagnosed as being bipolar. The fits seemed to have tipped them off, anyway." He grinned ferally. "In fact, I forgot to take my medication today...oh well, it helps me with my work."   
  
Martha attempted to appear undaunted. "Well, it wasn't like we were unconcerned for her safety, but we were so frightened that she'd try to do it again. We didn't want to lose her. She was too unique. Ashley was the only one who could see her at the clinic, and she wouldn't tell the rest of us anything..." She shook her head sadly. "Even when they transfered her back to school she was so quiet. It's a real shame..."   
  
"Disorders make people more interesting." An idea popped into Mark's mind, and he stood up, brushing off his shirt nonchalantly. He leaned closer to Martha, who grinned in triumph, to whisper: "You see that blonde-haired guy over there? The one with the camera and the guitar slung over his back? He's my best friend. He's also a homicidal maniac, but he takes pills for that, even though I think he hasn't refilled his prescription in a few weeks. The slightest things make him mad."   
  
Martha flinched noticably, but tried to hold her ground. "Oh...that's, um, intresting." She looked around quickly, just as Taryn started back towards the table, obviously fuming.  
  
"Ashley," she said through her teeth. "Is at home. She has been home for two hours. Somehow I knew that was going to happen, but I went to check anyway." She stomped over to Martha and pulled out her wallet. "This is all I have left for the week, Martha," she said darkly. "Take it. Get out of here." Martha didn't move. "Okay, you need more?" She shoved the whole wallet towards the woman next to her. "Take it all. License, bussiness cards, agents who've rejected me, publishers who won't call back--take my whole damn life. I don't care anymore. I really don't want to put up with this crap." She turned around and stalked out of the cafe, leaving a gaping Martha behind her.  
  
Mark snatched the wallet away from Martha and said in a dangerously soft voice, "That is all. Get your ass out that door or I will KICK it out that door. Or better yet, MIMI!" The Latino woman clambered down off the table, her eyes narrowing with pleasure as she saw Martha. "She needs to be escorted out. Immediately." Mark's cold-eyed stare glared a warning. Mimi backed off an involuntary pace, then headed forward again, Collins at her heels.  
  
As soon as Mimi came within a two-foot radius of Martha, Mark ran out of the cafe, skidding to a stop a foot behind Taryn. "Are you okay?" he pleaded in a cracked whisper. *Dammit, of course she isn't okay...but don't touch her...you know that can set you off...just see how she reacts...*   
  
Taryn nodded slowly but didn't turn around. "I've had better days," she admitted hoarsely, wiping some stubborn tears from her eyes. "But I needed that." There was an awkward pause before she added, "I guess she told you the whole story then, huh?" *You're in it now,*   
her inner voice muttered. *No...I'll tell him the truth...he'll understand....I hope...*   
  
"Yeah, she did. And that doesn't change my opinion of you--not true. It does change my opinion of you. It puts you even higher in my eyes, love." He dropped his arms down to his sides. "I told her a half-truth. I told her I was bipolar; not true. I, uh...clinically depressed...well...mostly, and then there's the whole teetering-on-the-edge-of-losing-it bit, but..."   
  
Taryn squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm not...I wasn't....." she sighed and   
scratched at her eyes one more time before turning around. "I'm....glad that you don't think less of me, but....truth be told... I wasn't as suicidal as they thought. It was an accident. I was acting with Ashley, we took a scene too far, I ended up pitched out of a second story window..." she sighed again and stared at the ground. "They put me in therapy...six months in a hellish clinic...just to find out there was nothing wrong with me..."   
  
He smiled weakly and said simply, "That must have been hell." Hesitantly, he reached a hand out to her.   
  
Taryn felt herself physically lose control. She fell into Mark roughly, tears trickling from her tightly closed eyes. "Oh God....they wouldn't....they wouldn't....I couldn't see anyone besides  
my...my...family! My asshole parents and spolied sister and...and...Ash....they destroyed m-my work and....and...." She held back a sob from escaping her throat. *Don't lose it....don't lose it...you can do this, Taryn....*   
  
He clutched her tightly, burying his head in her hair. "I'll never let them do anything to you, I swear to God. And I'll help you with your work, and rebuilding what was destroyed, and--and hold you," he finished unceremoniously. "When you need it. But I think you know me by now, I can't stop holding you."   
  
Much to her dismay, Taryn did indeed lose it. She buried her head in Mark's shoulder and sobbed, ignoring the trembling that was rapidly taking over her body. "I need someone now," she sobbed. "I need you now! Just....don't leave me....please....."   
  
"I won't leave you, I won't leave you," he repeated raggedly in her ear, before scooping her up in his arms as it started to drizzle. "You'll catch cold... come on back with me, I have a spare room."   
  
(end part two) 


End file.
